Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

‘It’s the two of them together, before I came along.’

Feeling numb, Sally gazed at the photograph. Lola’s mother, her red-gold hair swinging around her shoulders, was wearing a purple and white sundress, a stripy green cardigan and clumpy white platform shoes. Nick, sitting on the wall next to her with a proprietorial arm around her narrow waist, grinned into the camera. He was twenty years old, cocky and good-looking in a denim shirt and jeans, with everything going for him. Lola’s mother looked like a young Jane Asher – minus the dress sense – and Nick was her Paul McCartney.

‘This is how I know I can do it,’ said Lola, tapping the oldphoto. ‘My mum kept it all these years. That means she still cares about him: Sally exhaled slowly. The disappointment was crushing. Why did stuff like this always have to happen to her? Struggling to sound normal, she said, ‘Maybe she just forgot it was there. I’ve got photos at home of my seventh birthday party but it doesn’t mean I care about the kids I was at infants school with. I can’t even remember their names.’

‘That’s completely different.’ Lola shook her head. ‘You were seven years old. When it’s boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, you don’t hang on to photos of the ones you don’t like any more. You just don’t want those pictures to exist! But if you do still care about the other person, you keep the photos. Like I’ve still got all mine of me and Dougie.’

‘Maybe, but has he still kept his ones of you? Anyway,’ Sally was defensive; ‘it’s a personal thing. Some people keep all their photographs regardless.’ Meaning that she had. Crikey, if she were to tear up all the photos of her with the exes who’d chucked her, she wouldn’t have any left. Dammit, and now she wasn’t even going to be allowed to have a shot at Lola’s father because Lola – completely selfishly – had decided that she wanted him to get back together with her mother.

Bum.

The door swung open behind them and for a split second Sally’s foolish heart leapt, because what if it was Nick rushing back to tell her he couldn’t bear to be without her, that it had been love at first sight for him too, that he had no interest in getting back together with Blythe.. .

Oh, and that he’d secretly had a spare key cut, which was how he’d been able to burst back into the flat.

‘They do it deliberately,’ Gabe announced, tipping Lola’s feet off the sofa and throwing himself down with a groan of despair. ‘I swear to God, their mission in life is to officially do my head in.

Celebrities.’ He exhaled, pushing his hands through his floppy blond hair. ‘Couldn’t you just roll them up in a big red carpet and tip them over a cliff?’

‘Not a good night?’ Lola was sympathetic.

‘Bloody useless. Complete waste of time. I waited three hours for this actress to come out of a hair place in Primrose Hill. I was getting thirstier and thirstier, but I stuck it out because I knew she had to be finished soon. Then finally I couldn’t stand it a minute longer and raced into the shop across the road. I was in there for fifteen seconds, no more than that. And when I came out, her limo was pulling away. I tell you, I felt like throwing rocks at it.’

‘Poor you.’ Lola gave his arm a squeeze. ‘Yeurgh, you’re freezing. What’s all this stuff in your pocket?’ She had a quick rummage, pulling out sandwich wrappers, crisp packets and a folded sheet of A4 paper.

‘Homework. Colin gave it to me.’ Gabe shook his head wearily. ‘It’s a list of car registration numbers belonging to celebs. If you spot one in the street, you know they’re in the vicinity. I’m supposed to learn the whole list. Oh hell, I can’t do this job. How am I supposed to recognise all these people when there’s so damn many of them? And when it comes to the girls with blond hair extensions, well, they’re even worse. They all look exactly the same!’

‘You’ll get the hang of it.’ Lola’s tone was consoling. ‘What about the other paps, are they friendly?’

‘They’re OK,’ grumbled Gabe. ‘But they’re taking the mickey out of me because I keep getting things wrong. I thought I’d spotted Britney Spears coming out of Waterstones with an armfulof dictionaries but it wasn’t her. And this. morning I got a great shot of George Clooney pushing a pram in Hyde Park, except it turned out to be some bloke from last year’s Big Brother. I’m a laughing stock. They keep pointing to old homeless guys in the street and saying, "Quick, Gabe, it’s Pierce Brosnan!" and "Hey, Gabe, isn’t that George Bush?"‘

‘But your photos of Tom Dutton and Jessica Lee were in Heat this week,’ said Lola. ‘Look how much money you made from those shots. They’re just jealous.’

‘That was a fluke. I could work for the next five years and not get another chance like that.’

‘Or it could happen again tomorrow,’ Sally chimed in. ‘That’s the thing, you never know. It’s like panning for gold.’

‘We’ll see. This isn’t as great as I thought it might be. And I have to work on New Year’s Eve,’

grumbled Gabe. ‘What a lousy way to spend the night, hanging around outside all the best parties, freezing my nuts off.’

Sally looked smug. ‘You can take my photo if you like. I’m off to a fantastic glitzy do on New Year’s Eve.’

‘That’s three days away’ Eyeing the plates with crumbs on, the dirty cups, the pistachio nut shells and the basket of makeup on the coffee table, Gabe said evenly, ‘Any chance of clearing this mess up before you go?’

‘See what I’m up against?’ Sally rolled her eyes and grinned at Lola. ‘Totally neurotic!’

It was seven o’clock on New Year’s Eve. ‘You won’t believe what’s happened,’ wailed Sally, bursting into Lola’s flat. ‘My bloody boss has only been and gone and stood me up: Lola, hopping around with one shoe on and one shoe off, said, ‘For your posh do? You can come along to the White Hart with us if you like. It won’t be posh and you’ll definitely get beer spilled over you, but it’ll be a good night.’ It would actually be a sweaty, crowded, extremely rowdy night but Tim from work had bullied everyone into buying tickets and Lola hadn’t had the heart to refuse. Persuasively she added, ‘A tenner a ticket and all the burgers you can eat.’

Sally looked horrified. ‘My God, I can’t imagine anything more horrible. My ticket for the Carrick cost a hundred and fifty pounds.’

‘Blimey, I’d want gold-plated, diamond-encrusted burgers for that price.’

But it was for charity, Lola learned. And they certainly didn’t serve burgers at the five-star, decidedly glitzy Carrick Hotel overlooking Hyde Park. The event was dinner and a quiz, with tables of ten forming teams who were to compete against each other. Dr Willis, Sally’s boss, had been due to partner her for the evening — in a platonic way, naturally, what with him being sixty-four years old and keen on astronomy — but had just phoned to apologise that he couldn’t make it after all, his daughter having begged him to babysit his grandchildren instead.

‘So the ticket’s already been paid for,’ Sally finished. ‘Seems a shame to waste it. Wouldn’t you rather come with me to the Carrick than squeeze into some scuzzy, sticky-carpeted pub?’

Weakening, Lola pulled a face; she hated letting people down. ‘Tim’s expecting me to be there. I don’t want to disappoint him.’

‘Sure? It’ll be fun.’ Sally played her trump card. Doug’s on our table.’

Oh well, everyone else from Kingsley’s was going along to the White Hart; it wasn’t as if Tim would be all on his own. ‘Go on then.’ Lola’s heart began to beat faster, because this could be her chance to really impress Dougie. ‘You’ve twisted my arm.’